


Red Lace and Kilts

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what do Jaffas wear under their kilts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Lace and Kilts

Red Lace and Kilts

By

Denise

 

 

"Enjoying your loafing?" Jack asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as the ambled his way to Sam's bed. The major looked up, glancing past him to Daniel and Teal'c, who were following Jack. She was ensconced firmly in the infirmary bed, the IV in her right arm and the pajamas she was wearing silent testimony that the woman was spending the night right here.

 

"Definitely," she said. "I should do this more often." She made a show of stretching out on the infirmary bed, the image slightly marred when she jarred her injured shoulder and grimaced slightly.

 

"Fine with me if you don't," Jack said. "I can do without the paperwork," he joked, using the humor to try and banish the sick feeling he'd had in the pit of his stomach when he'd realized that his second had been injured during their impromptu mission to rescue SG-8 from some bad tempered natives.

 

"It's not exactly how I envisioned spending my Friday night."

 

"Yes, about that," Jack said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an item sealed in a small plastic bag, ignoring the red 'biohazard' tape that sealed it shut.

 

"Jack," Daniel protested, reaching for the bag.

 

"Colonel!" Sam stretched out her hand, gasping indignantly when he pulled the bag out of both her and Daniel's reach.

 

"I just have a question," he said. "Red lace?"

 

He held up the folded brassiere, taking no small amount of delight in the flush of color that spread across her face. He didn't get to tease his major often, and took particular pleasure in doing it now…when she was conscious and alive to BE teased.

 

"These are SOOO not regulation." He refrained from asking if they were part of a set. She may be drugged and fresh out of surgery, but she had a long memory, and could kick his ass ten ways from Sunday if she was in the mood.

 

"I was SOOO off duty," she said.

 

"True, but red lace?" Jack held up the small bag containing the ruined bra, it's crimson material sickingly marred by dark rust stains. He remembered the horrible few moments, after she'd gone down and he'd made his way over to her, struggling to pull her to her feet and get her out of the line of fire. Once they were – relatively – safe, he'd tried to dress her injury, pushing aside her torn jacket and vest and revealing a ripped black t-shirt, already sodden with blood. But her blood hadn't been the only crimson revealed by that torn shirt.

 

"This from the man that wears Bart Simpson boxers?" she shot back.

 

Daniel snorted and Jack looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "Daniel…"

 

"What are you looking at me for?"

 

"Well, I don't know how else she knows…what she knows," Jack finished awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he'd just confirmed her accusation.

 

"You'd be surprised what I know," she said, smiling evilly. She looked to Daniel, her gaze deliberately drifting below the beltline.

 

"Sam!"

 

"He wears multi-pack boxer briefs," Jack said. "Five pair for seven dollars or something like that."

 

"At least I don't have cartoon characters all over my ass," Daniel said.

 

"No, you just have a different color for every day of the week," Jack shot back.

 

"Since when is my underwear your business?"

 

"Since when is MY underwear HIS business," Sam said.

 

"They're against regs," Jack said.

 

"Hello pot, my name is kettle." Jack ignored her insubordination. He kinda had to. He had started it after all…and she was on drugs. Good drugs.

 

"I do not see the amusement in this," Teal'c said. He stretched out his hand and pulled the baggie from Jack, handing it over to Sam with a small nod.

 

"Thank you," she smiled, tucking the bra Frasier had finished ruining when she'd cut it so that she could treat the bullet wound in Sam's shoulder, under the covers.

 

"So, Carter," Jack said, unable to resist one last dig. "If you know everything…" He looked over at Teal'c.

 

She gaped at him, her face flushing worse than when he'd first held up her bra. "Umm, well…umm….you know, I'm kinda tired and…"

 

"I do not have the need for such restrictive garments," Teal'c said, rescuing Sam from having to answer Jack's question. "They are inefficient and quite uncomfortable." Jack raised his eyebrows, gaining a new appreciation for his alien friend. He looked to Sam, almost afraid to ask how she knew.

 

"Kilt's a kilt," she said with a one shoulder shrug. "Just don't ask him where he hides his knife."

 

~Fin~

 

 


End file.
